


The last letter

by floatingaway4



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, angsty but also kind of fluffy, but it's MCD with a happy ending, if that's a thing, kind of, my brain made me do it, yes it's MCD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29899872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatingaway4/pseuds/floatingaway4
Summary: He knows Alex is here. Henry can sense him, even if he didn’t already feel like he was reliving a fond memory.Henry walks through the doorway into the darkened kitchen, and there he is, sitting on the counter. Just like the first time, except he’s not on his phone.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 45
Kudos: 94





	The last letter

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it's MCD. But look at these early 'reviews'!! 
> 
> "this is so deeply emotional and I am in love" - Evie
> 
> "Heartbreaking and sweet" - Gretchen
> 
> ********************************************************

It’s dark. 

And then he blinks. 

And suddenly Henry is in a hallway. It’s familiar, but slightly different than he remembers. 

_Oh._

He knows Alex is here. Henry can sense him, even if he didn’t already feel like he was reliving a fond memory. 

Henry walks through the doorway into the darkened kitchen, and there he is, sitting on the counter. Just like the first time, except he’s not on his phone. 

And Henry’s not listening to sad music, and not in his pajamas. He’s wearing the suit they buried him in. 

“Alex, darling,” Henry exhales, feels the tears on his own cheeks. 

“Hey, baby.” Alex jumps off the counter and is in his arms. Henry never knew he could miss anyone as much as he’s missed Alex in the last two years. He kisses him and kisses him, runs his hands through curls that are as lush and full as they were when Alex was young. 

And it hits him. Alex is _young_. 

It’s hard to believe where they are, that they’re both here together. Henry had lucid dreams like this, especially at the end when he was so sick, but this feels different. Alex has so much energy and is so vibrant and _alive_ …Henry can feel him, touch him...

“How…” Henry strokes Alex’s face, like it’s precious and rare and lovely and _Alex_. “What are you... what are _we_ doing _here_?” He gestures at the room around him, but his hands quickly drop back to stroke Alex’s warm skin. 

Alex tightens his arms around Henry’s waist. “I thought this would be as good a place as any to wait for you.” He shrugs and smirks and _god_ Henry missed him so much it’s almost painful to see him again. A good pain, like the stretch in muscles that haven’t been used in much too long. 

“I also thought it might be funny to meet you in the storage closet at the hospital,” Alex grins, spreads his arms out wide, “But this is less cramped.” He looks into Henry’s eyes, more serious now. “We can be anything we want here, babe. Any age, any place, just think it and it happens.” 

Henry looks down at himself. His body feels familiar, but firmer and stronger than it did at the end. Now, he’s in the pajamas he wore when he was younger, plaid pants and a t-shirt. Probably the ones he was wearing the first night they both ended up here. 

  
  


Henry nuzzles Alex’s face, inhales his scent, needs another kiss. And another. “I love you,” he whispers. 

“Love you, too.” Alex looks him in the eyes again, a little hesitant this time. “Time doesn't work here like it does there.” He takes Henry’s left hand, rubs his fingers over the wedding ring. “How long have I been…?”

“Two years,” Henry tells him. It’s always felt like so, so long, an eternity, but the words already have less meaning, less ability to hurt him. Because Alex is in his arms now and time suddenly doesn't feel real anymore, feels like an idiom in a foreign language that Henry doesn’t quite comprehend. 

Alex reaches up to cup his face. “Oh Jesus, baby, I’m so, so sorry.” He takes a deep breath. “Time doesn’t... it doesn’t seem like it’s been any time at all. I mean I _missed_ you, but I also feel like I just saw you.” 

“It was…” Out of habit, Henry wants to say _difficult, impossible, unbearable_ ….but it suddenly feels like time has telescoped, collapsed in on itself, and he can’t quite remember anything painful. Like someone has just gone in and surgically removed the hurt from his heart. He shakes his head. “It was hard, but I had the children, and the grandchildren. They helped.” He runs his hand through Alex’s hair again. “They missed you, too.” 

“I know. I checked in on them sometimes.” He smiles, loops his arms around Henry’s neck. “And on you, too.” 

Henry tilts his head thoughtfully. “I thought I….” It sounds silly, so foolish that he never said it out loud to anyone in the family, afraid they would think he was losing his mind from the grief, but … “I thought I _felt_ you there.”

“I knew you could feel me,” Alex assures him, closing his eyes under Henry’s continued petting. He nuzzles Henry's throat. “I liked to visit when you were playing the piano,” he whispers. 

“But I couldn’t see you, love,” Henry says softly. He plays with one of Alex’s runaway curls. “I always wished I could see you one more time.” 

“It doesn’t work like that,” Alex tells him. He lifts his head. “Except with babies, babies can see us. I’ve played hide and seek with Jamie’s grandson. I mean, he’s my namesake, I had to visit,” he laughs. It’s the most beautiful sound Henry has heard in a long, long time. “And we can visit people in dreams, but only if they’re about to…” he trails off. 

Henry suddenly remembers, in a haze of medications and sedatives, thinking, _insisting_ Alex was in the hospital room with him. The boys had stared at Ellie, and they’d all looked so heartsick. Ellie had brushed his hair off his forehead with such tenderness. “ _Oh, Daddy_ , _it was just a dream_.” 

“It was,” Alex says, which is when Henry realizes he said it out loud. “I can’t explain the rules but I kind of understand them. You’ll learn things, too, now that you’re here. Not that anyone teaches you or tells you or anything. You just pick stuff up somehow.” 

He takes Henry’s face in his hands. “I’m so glad you’re here, even if that feels selfish.” Alex leans in for another long, sweet kiss. He drags his fingers down Henry’s chest. “But you were always with me, in a way...like I said, I don’t completely understand how, but you were.” 

Alex’s forehead creases, the way it always did when he was concentrating. “Our hearts are...they’re _connected_. I’ve seen it, Henry. I don’t understand exactly how it works, but they are. It’s almost like, like vines or something. I can’t explain it with words, but … you’ll see.” Alex weaves their fingers together with one hand, rests his other hand over the ring under his shirt.

“We’re connected, sweetheart. Even if we went back--which we could do if we wanted, by the way--we’d still find each other. We will always find each other. I mean, think about it, babe. We found each other at the _Olympics_. Do you know how many people attend the fucking Olympics?” His eyes are huge, his speech rapid and passionate. It’s Alex’s familiar, excited rambling and Henry missed that, too. 

“And why do you think we were so obsessed with each other? Because we _knew_ each other. We recognized each other from some time before, from _all_ the times before, from...always.” Alex’s eyes are bright and _God_ Henry missed his face. He runs a hand through Henry’s hair. “We’ve always found each other, and we’ve always been together. We really are forever.” Alex’s face is so full of wonder and awe, Henry wants to cry. “Isn’t that amazing, H?” 

He pulls back, studies Henry’s face again. “You’re so young. But I swear you got hotter as you got older,” Alex grins. And Henry sees his reflection in the shiny refrigerator, realizes he looks a little older suddenly. 

“You did, too,” Henry agrees, and when he looks back, Alex has the gray at his temples that Henry always adored. 

“Oh! I was so excited to see you, I almost forgot.” Alex reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a thick, folded envelope, slightly yellowed and frayed soft around the edges. “I got your letter.” 

Henry blinks slowly and stares. Of course he recognizes the envelope. It’s the last letter he gave Alex, the love letter he slid into Alex’s hands before the coffin was closed. 

It’s not the last one he wrote. He’s written to Alex so many times in his journals over the last two years. Talked to him, too, in the quiet, lonely shadows of their bedroom. 

Henry swallows hard. He reaches for the envelope, fully expecting it to disappear or disintegrate at his touch. But it doesn’t. 

Alex’s eyes are shiny and wet. “I read it all the time, when I missed you. Didn’t make me miss you any less,” he shrugs, “but I read it anyway.” 

There’s a noise behind the door across the room. Alex reaches up for a quick kiss before he slides the letter back into his pocket. “Someone else is here, they’ve been waiting for you, too,” Alex tells him. 

Henry feels his heart clench. “My parents?” 

Alex smiles. “They’re here too, somewhere. But they spend most of their time at the theatre.” Alex says the last word in a haughty, terrible British accent. “Your dad thinks it's funny to haunt people there, very Shakespearian." He rests a calming hand over Henry’s heart. "You’ll get to see them when you’re ready.” He walks across the room to open the door. “That’s not who I meant, though.” 

Paws scrabble on the tile and suddenly David is jumping up on Henry’s legs. Henry falls to his knees, grabbing the dog and trying to hold the squirming, whimpering ball in his arms. “David!” 

Henry looks up to see that Alex looks a little different now, middle-aged, maybe. “He’s been keeping me company,” Alex says and kneels down next to them. Once David has stopped wriggling and is settled in Henry’s lap, Alex reaches over to rub Henry’s back. “Hey, you know who’s not here?”

Henry looks up, curious. 

“Your grandmother.” 

“Where--”

Alex throws up his hands. “Don’t know, don’t want to know. We don’t really ask about stuff like that.” 

Henry looks over toward the door Alex just opened. “What’s in there?” 

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” Alex tells him. “Wanna go see?” 

Henry nods, a little hesitant. He already understands a little bit about what Alex said about time. It feels like he’s been in this kitchen for a few minutes and forever, all at the same time. 

Alex jumps up and reaches for Henry’s hand, pulls him up effortlessly. “Your arthritis is gone, did you notice?”

Henry looks over at Alex, who looks young again. “Now that you mention it, yes.” He hasn’t been able to get up and down off the floor so easily in years. He’d been relieved once the grandchildren were old enough to sit at the table and play board games, instead of crawling around on the carpet. 

Alex takes his glasses off, wipes them on his shirt tail, and puts them back on. 

“You still need glasses here?” 

“Oh, no, actually.” Alex smiles a brilliant smile. “But you like them, so here they are.” 

They cross the room, David close at their heels, and Alex opens the door with a dramatic flourish. 

“Really? Your old bedroom? Horndog,” Alex pokes him in the side. 

Henry feels himself blush. Some things never change. “It’s not that,” he insists. “I mean, I do miss that, miss you.” He looks over at Alex, feels his body reacting the way it always did when they were around each other. A craving, a low thrum that will build until it’s satisfied, only a matter of time until it starts up again... “And I want that, too...it’s just,” Henry looks over at the bed, back at Alex. “I’ve missed sleeping beside you.” 

Alex reaches for his hand. “Oh. Well, that can be arranged.” He pulls Henry’s head down with his other hand, kisses his forehead. “I always preferred our bedroom in Brooklyn, though.” And the room around them transforms to become the home they shared. “That okay?” 

Henry laughs. “Of course, love.” 

Alex tugs at his hand. “Well, come on then, Your Highness, I haven’t been the little spoon in a while.” 

They curl up on the bed, David taking his spot at their feet. 

Henry smiles into Alex’s curls. “Would you?” 

Alex flips over to face him, confused. 

“Go back, I mean,” Henry clarifies. 

Alex shrugs, as much as he can in his current position. “I don’t know. Maybe, one day. Not now.” He places a soft kiss on Henry’s lips. “And we’d both have to go, otherwise, no.” 

“We’ll always find each other?” Henry asks, unsure but hopeful. 

“Always,” Alex whispers, wraps his arms around Henry. “I promise.” 

He reaches back into his pocket for the envelope, pulls the thick sheaf of pages out. “Read it to me?” 

Henry presses his lips together, not even trying to stop the tears, and nods. He strokes Alex’s hair, savors the warmth of his head resting on Henry’s chest. It’s...unsettling, a bit, to read words he wrote when he was grieving and broken, at a time when he finally feels whole again. When Alex’s breath evens out, Henry feels his own eyelids droop closed. 

And they sleep, twined together. Two souls, finally at peace. 

**Author's Note:**

> I purposely avoided any specific beliefs about any one religion, this is meant to be a sort of generic 'afterlife.' It wasn't my intention to offend anyone whose religious beliefs don't match up with what happens in this story. I just needed to give them a relatively permanent happily ever after....with a little potential for reincarnation thrown in :-)


End file.
